When we visited the Côte d’Azur (or French Riviera), it was a little overwhelming trying to figure out where to start. The region of Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur covers a large area from the Mediterranean Sea up to the French Alps so even though we were staying there, it didn’t mean the best beaches in France were a quick 10 minute drive away. It was actually more than an hour away. So we made an executive decision to visit Bandol and St. Tropez and leave the rest of the coast for next time.
Bandol is a true seaside resort town. Palm trees escort you up and down the port past shop after shop and restaurant after restaurant. You are surrounded by pops of color and impeccable fashion — it was like we were on a more sophisticated Lincoln Road in South Beach. The Sunday market was up and running so we perused through the different tables alternating between sampling unique cheeses, summer sausage, and gourmet spreads and sorting through bathing suits, jewelry, and needlepoint.
After lunch (and some prawns that caused quite the scene — you know when you’re looking forward to the most perfect tasting dish and then it finally comes and it’s anything but that?), we took off for St. Tropez. I must admit, I had very high expectations of the coastal town that’s been capturing the hearts of Hollywood for years. We didn’t have a lot of time so we spent most of it on the beach. It was high tide that day leaving only about 4 feet of walking space between the sea and crowds of tanning enthusiasts. Beach clubs lined the shoreline and we got a really good look at each one of them, all differentiated by the music they were blasting and the umbrellas they owned. We grabbed drinks before setting up our sandy camp and stayed until it was time to go.
I’m certain that we barely scratched the surface of what this town has to offer but it was quite easy to see how the queen of St. Tropez, Brigitte Bardot, fell in love with this place, praising that “it’s genuine charms… the mulberry trees, the sheep grazing in the scrubland; the mighty farmhouses smothered with bougainvillaea which belonged to the wine producers, their vaulted cellars filled with barrels of maturing Provençal wine. Here, local people raised their poultry and kneaded their loaves, while fisherfolk in their tartans – small flat-bottomed skiffs with wide square russet-hued sails – returned with their nets full of the sea’s bounty”. Very much looking forward to documenting the rest.